


Vulnerable

by MissDrarryDawn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 00:38:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20957573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissDrarryDawn/pseuds/MissDrarryDawn
Summary: After a curse threatens to turn Harry into a Squib, Draco has to save him, but he'll need to keep his wits about him, which he, of course, fails to do.//Completed//Word count: 9.5k





	Vulnerable

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cecithewitchbitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cecithewitchbitch/gifts).

> FINALLY GOT IT DONE !!!  
ik your prompt took one hell of a long time, but here it is! I DID IT!
> 
> i've cleared my prompts for a while, and will be writing a bit of my own ideas again, i need to catch up so no more prompts *for now*, sorry guys  
don't worry ceci, i haven't forgotten your list, i'm merely still concocting my evil plansss mwhahaha  
im kidding, im kidding xD 
> 
> or am I?

Harry Potter is a whore.

Didn't expect that one did you?

Well, neither did the rest of the Wizarding World.

_Especially_ not Draco Malfoy. You see, there were certain traits Draco associated with Potter, and _none_ of them could be used to describe him _now_. 

For the first five years after the war, everything was fine. Potter was the same old noble, kind git he was at school, and they'd managed to form a solid friendship even, much to Draco's surprise. When their departments cooperated, they tended to pair together and then go out for drinks after successfully solving a case. They were a hell of a team too.

Then, one morning, Potter had come in and something was..._different_. He looked as if something inside of him had snapped the previous night and there was an air of disconcerting resignation to him. Draco prodded, of course, but Potter had smiled tiredly and assured him everything was alright, so Draco dropped it. 

However, Potter had _lied_, because later that day he flirted shamelessly with just about every guy in their vicinity and even took some guy home, Draco couldn't be bothered to remember his name, and the next day he did it all again. 

He'd grown distant from Draco too, which was most confusing of all. They got along so well, and had long since cleared the air between them, difficult as those conversations were, and Draco couldn't understand why Potter seemed to hold himself at a distance all of a sudden. He'd asked, but Potter would just swallow thickly and look away, then lie that everything's alright. Eventually, he started declining going out for drinks too. Draco had turned to Granger and Weasley for some clarification, but they seemed just as stumped as him. Turns out, Potter had drawn away from them as well.

One thing he did _not_ turn away from, however, was his uncouth flirting and constant sexual escapades. He'd either let a guy take him home after work, or he'd take him back to his, and they'd, presumably, shag like bunnies, after which Potter would ditch the poor sod the next morning or the next week, refusing to acknowledge his existence beyond receiving gratification from him.

Articles upon articles had been written about this sudden _shift_ in the _hero_, but Potter was staying as suave and tight lipped as ever, never once breaking the facade of indifference towards everything happening in his personal life. He didn't bother to hide the fact he was scarily quickly descending into becoming a _fuckboy, _but he never offered any explanations as to why he'd changed so suddenly.

After two years, he had managed to bed every man at the Ministry from his own department, and Draco's too, and has moved on to others. The biggest slap to the face for Draco, however, had been learning that Potter had started using his fame and name to get sex. Never once in his entire life, even when Draco had absolutely _loathed_ his existence, had he ever had a fleeting thought that Potter would stoop so low. Surely not. He couldn't. Gryffindors were much too noble weren't they?

And Draco had been wrong. 

Just like that, Potter had lost his reputation, and become something akin to a stain on the Wizarding World. No one could really deny him anything, he _had _killed Voldemort and saved them all after all, but now no one was as willing to extend any service anymore, seeing how dismissive he had become of things such as _gratitude _and _respect._

Oddly enough, the one man that was spared of Potter's ministrations was Draco himself. Potter was always respectful and cordial in their interactions, few as they might be. He'd reduced his encounters with Draco to the bare minimum, but he always spared Draco a soft, honest smile, a rare one at that, when they crossed paths. All of his smiles nowadays seemed to be coy, or sly, or sultry, gracing his face for the sole purpose of getting into someone's pants. Not with Draco though. The blonde wasn't sure whether to be terrified or flattered. He had inadvertently seemed to take Potter's place in the Golden Trio, spending a lot of time with Weasley and Granger, who he'd gotten on a first name basis with, discussing what the _hell_ had gotten into Potter. He'd grown cold with his friends, minimizing contact much like he did with Draco, and offered them tiny smiles when it was opportune. But that was it. He didn't hang out with them or talk or do much else except be a brilliant Auror and a whore.

"I just don't understand." Hermione moaned into her gin one night, hands buried in her frizzy hair. She'd taken it particularly hard, this sudden withdrawal of Potter's. Ron seemed equally as puzzled, but it seemed that he was slowly giving up, after two years on finding out what happened. Draco had been the first to give up, once Potter shut him out, he didn't bother prying like Ron and Hermione, he didn't feel it was his place, even if they had been friends for awhile prior, but he always dutifully sat and listened to Potter's friends stress and fuss over it, giving his own input every once in a while.

"It's been two years Mione, I don't think we're ever getting him back." Ron sighed, throwing back his scotch, scowling fiercely.

"But _why_? Why did he suddenly just.." She trailed off again, shaking her head, sipping on her drink.

"It's like a switch had been flipped in his idiotic head." Draco agreed, sighing deeply. He loathed to admit it, but he did kind of miss the old, dorky Potter who made him laugh with his own incompetence. 

"Yes! One morning he came in and just.." Hermione pressed his lips into a thin line.

"Decided to become a bloody _whore_." Ron finished for her, scowl deepening. He hated what Potter had become most of the three of them, because he knew Potter was respectful and gentle once upon a time. He hated all of the awe stricken stories about how good of a fuck Potter was from all the men who'd gotten into his bed. He hated these blabberings because he'd grown up with Potter and he knew better than anyone that Potter is a considerate guy, or at least, _had been_ a considerate guy. He hated that Potter never gave him any explanation for anything, because he felt as if he deserved to know, him and Hermione both. It's the least they deserved. But they didn't get even that much. It's what always had Ron so angry whenever they discussed the _hero_.

"Don't call him that Ron." Hermione chastised, though her face was resigned, her fingers curled around her glass tightly.

"That's exactly what he's become, Mione, what else do you expect me to call it?" Ron huffed, drumming his fingers on the old grimy table.

Draco sighed, and ran a hand through his hair, though he said nothing. He didn't know what else was there to say anymore, the topic seemed drained and exhausted by now, it didn't seem like there was anything more to discuss. Harry Potter had become a whore, and they weren't likely to learn _why_ anytime soon. He was just about to suggest a welcome change of subject, when the man himself walked into the Leaky.

"Speak of the devil..." Draco muttered, eyes sharpening into a glare over Potter's figure, who hadn't noticed them yet. He felt the eyes on him though and craned his head to throw Draco a friendly, open smile before disappearing out of his line of sight. Draco growled under his breath. He had half a mind to storm over to Potter and give him an earful for the last two years, and perhaps also give him a black-eye, for good measure. A hand on his shoulder stopped him from doing just that.

"Ignore him. Serves him right for treating us the way he has." Ron murmured darkly, looking away from Potter with no small amount of effort.

Hermione was chewing on her lip, eyes glazed and soft as she contemplated. Ron quickly caught on:

"Go over there and I'll burn your books. You know I _will_." He threatened the only threat that could get Hermione Granger to back down from anything. "He doesn't deserve your worry Mione. We've tried plenty to snap him out of it, and nothing had worked. Worse yet, he cut us out. Let him have a taste of his own medicine." 

Draco cleared his throat, and forced his shoulders to relax.

"Ron has a point, Hermione. Enough is enough." He clipped, purposefully ignoring the unabashed flirting and oogling going on by the bar. Of course. Potter wasn't satisfied with having fucked the entire Ministry, he had to move on to other professions as well. Worse yet, the bartender was so pathetically obviously into it, and Potter knew this. It was in the cocky upturn of his lips. Even after everyone had seen how much of a player their Golden Boy had become, men just fell into his arms with a mere wink and a few clever words. It was _sickening_. 

"I _know_, but I miss him. This isn't him, guys. Something has to be _really_ wrong. I just want to help him." She swallowed the last of her drink, and sighed deeply. Ron seemed to follow suit, shrinking in on himself. 

"You want to help everyone. You can't." Draco shrugged, shifting in his seat. "Perhaps he's just past it at this point." 

Hermione said nothing, but her hunched posture spoke of admission that struck Draco fiercely. She'd seemed to give up in that moment as well. Let go of Potter. And it seemed to pain her more than she'd ever admit. Draco itched to hex Potter, to ask him if he was _happy_ now, that he managed to break his own friends into _giving up_ on him. First it was Draco, who just pulled away when he saw Potter had done the same. Then it was Ron, who'd accepted defeat by requesting a partner change a year after Potter's _shift_, after Potter shagged Ginny's ex, Dean. Hermione had held on the longest, hoping beyond hope that Potter would snap out of it, talk to her, apologize, explain, _anything_, but it was _now_, after throwing a pitiful glance over her shoulder to gleam what was going on by the bar that her back had slouched in bitter recognition that there was nothing more she could do. 

That was the night Draco had started pitying Potter. For the first time in all the years he's known the bastard, he _pitied_ him. Because now, Potter was truly alone. He wasn't revered as a hero anymore, he'd shattered that illusion, he didn't have friends to fall back on, he'd driven them into giving in, he didn't have _anyone _anymore. It was his own fault, of course, but Draco couldn't help but feel sorry for the dumb sod while he worked the bartender into going back to his after he gets off work. Draco thought he'd pitied Potter before, since his work as an on-site Healer for the Aurors had him tending to Potter's recklessness more than a few times. Those injuries he'd treated had fooled Draco into believing he'd felt sorry for Potter then, but he knew better now. Shaking his head, the blonde scoffed at himself. He had no time to pity Potter, because everything that had happened was his own fault and it really shouldn't concern Draco. 

And it didn't. Truly didn't. Draco had trained himself back into not giving a rat's arse about Potter, doing his job dutifully when Potter was injured, and not sparing him a thought beyond that. That was _until_ the night Potter had come into the Hospital Wing of the Auror Department, screaming bloody murder in agonizing pain, clutching his head, almost blind from the scalding tears cascading down his cheeks when he crashed into the infirmary, falling to his knees and sicking up copious amounts of blood right in front of Draco. He retched and retched and the puddle of red grew around him, before he finally globbered out the last of the blood, and looked up at Draco, his chin and lips smeared with crimson, voice a hoarse plea, eyes desperate and pained when he muttered:

"Help me.." 

Before promptly keeling over into the smattering of his own blood, fainting. _That_ night was the night that broke Draco's indifference. Shattered it into a million fucking pieces. 

~

"He was cursed with _WHAT?!_" Hermione shuttered on a screech when Draco's diagnostics came back.

_"Evanescet Scintillam_._" _He calmly repeated, a hand on her elbow hopefully coaxing her into settling down. 

"Bloody hell Draco.." She muttered, pressing a palm to her eyelids for a moment, taking a few deep breaths. He nodded mutely:

"I know. I need to get your consent and signature to proceed with the treatment. You know there's only one way to counter that curse." 

She pressed her lips into a thin line:

"Draco..Some things you shouldn't be privy to." 

Draco agreed with her completely. He wished there was another way. But there was no counter curse. There was no way to recover but for this one extremely unconventional one.

"I know. I don't like this either Hermione. He wrote you down as one to sign off treatments like these, and that's why I invited you here. If there was another way, you know I would have taken it." 

"I know. It's just..." She hesitated, words dying on her tongue. It didn't sit right with her still. Writing off consent to such an invasive form of healing. Perhaps it was just the fact it was Draco, much as she hated herself for still thinking like that sometimes.

"Hermione, you do know that ES will turn him into a Squib unless I proceed with treatment, right? Do you really think that's what Potter wants?" Draco asked, biting his lip. Much as he didn't like this either, he liked the idea of letting Potter become a Squib even less, and for that reason he needed her to sign the document.

"I _know _Draco, but are you _sure_ that there's no other way?" She asked, more than a little foolishly hopeful.

Draco sighed again, reaching for patience, scowling at the parchment in his hands:

"No, Hermione, there's _no_ other way. If you don't sign this, I won't be allowed to help him, and he'll turn into a goddamn Squib. I think Potter would rather die than live that reality." 

Setting her shoulders tight, she grabbed the quill and signed on the dotted line. Draco was completely right, Hermione knew, though that did not alleviate the uneasy twist in her stomach at all.

~

_Evanescet Scintillam is a curse that turns its victim into a Squib if left untreated. Once cast, it creates a small, pulsating black mass in the victim's mind, which then proceeds to search through the victim's memories, looking for the most powerful, most prominent one. A strong one, deep, vulnerable, stuffed full with magic. This process takes a few hours. After the mass selects a suitable memory as a feeding source, it will latch onto the memory, sinking into it until it has a complete grasp over it. This fusion will cause extreme, agonizing pain to explode across the victim's head, along with causing them to throw up copious amounts of blood, finally ending with loss of consciences. The mass will start to suck and feed on the magic the mind provides to the memory, eating it all away until there is no more magic in the victim, therefore, turning them into a Squib._

_There is no known counter-curse._

_~_

Draco was very apprehensive the first night of treatment, checking and double checking all of the charms and spells cast on both himself and Potter, who looked pale and almost dead in the hospital bed, determined not to fuck this one up. This was his first time dealing with ES, and although he knew what he had to do, he still felt chilled to the bone.

He closed his eyes, and opened the link he'd spelled between them.

~

_A ripple blooming across the undisturbed surface of the swirling pond caused great alarm to crawl through the entirety of his core. His magic swayed with the waft of fear._

_Dark clouds gathered overhead, as if to shield the deepest part of him away from the intrusion._

_From the intruder._

_~_

He wasn't welcome, Draco knew that much. 

He could feel it the moment he opened the link, before he'd even attempted to step into Potter's mind. He felt the cold rejection, but he grit his teeth and stepped into it nonetheless.

Lightning cracked in the distance.

Draco stood still, waited, waited for Potter's mind to adjust. It did not. He hadn't expected it to. 

Of course Potter had to be difficult, even now.

~

_The only way to treat ES is a month long process of intuitive work rather than magic work. The Healer must enter the victim's mind through a link and manually sift through their memories, until they find the feeding source. After that, they must unlatch the cancerous mass and free the magic it has swallowed before retreating from the victim's mind. If start of treatment is not issued within the first three weeks of cursing, it will be too late._

_This procedure requires express consent from those involved, as it bears quite a personal affect as well as a professional one, in cases of Ministry workers known as Unspeakables getting treated._

_~_

Draco retreated after the hostile crackling of lightning grew nearer.

It was enough for the first night, he reckoned. 

This will be much harder than he thought.

Then again, when had things with Potter ever been easy?

~

_Lightning broke the dark clouds, issuing a warning._

_The intruder did not take their leave yet._

_The pond kept rippling._

_Unease was brewing steadily, and the clouds released another whip, closer this time, making the message clear._

_The intruder stepped out._

_The pond swirled to calm once more._

_~_

The second night of treatment had fared much better than Draco had expected. He opened the link and waited. A howling wind was the only response he'd sensed, no lightning this time. He carefully stepped through, which is when he noticed clouds gathering. A rumble echoed. Draco grit his teeth and stepped in deeper, feeling the air grow thick. Lightning cracked down right in front of his feet, making him flinch. Draco took another step deeper, not caring to stop or give Potter's magic time to adjust, rather choosing to _force_ him to adapt, and comply. If Potter thought _he_ was stubborn, Draco would show him just how much more stubborn Draco could get. Lightning snapped off to his left this time, but Draco took another few steps forward, feeling the panic rising. He was close to breaching the first ring, he could tell by the bittersweet taste of the air.

~

_Leave, leave, leave!_

_His magic whorled in a panic. The intruder was too close. No. _

_The pond boiled and broiled. Leave!_

_Lightning snapped and struck around the intruder, urging him out, OUT!_

_No. They weren't leaving._

_Force them out._

_Strike them._

_No._

_They mustn't be harmed._

_~_

Draco felt the air settle around him as he took another step forward. The flurry of the push against him had ebbed away. _Good_. He took to walking a bit more freely forwards, feeling the moment he'd popped beneath the first layer. He had left the outer reaches of Potter's mind behind, he had truly been allowed entrance. He stood there for a few moments, feeling the bittersweet taste coat his tongue, allowing his magical signature to mark the spot, before retreating, pulling himself out through the link.

~

_They're in. _

_Hmm, the man's magic is strong. _

_The strange output of magic wafting into his core was not unwelcome. The man gave something of his, to compensate for his rude breach. _

_His core accepted what was offered, his own magic taking comfort from it._

_This man was good. He'd be granted entrance._

_Oh, he's retreating._

_~_

Sitting down heavily in the chair by Potter's bed, Draco sighed and took a sip from his water bottle, eyeing the man on the bed tiredly. 

"Honestly Potter." He grumbled, shaking his head while he wrote down notes from the second night. "You lost permission to get hit by stupid curses when you killed the Dark Lord. You shouldn't even be here, you should be home, probably fucking some unfortunate sod." He couldn't keep the note of bitterness out of his voice. It didn't matter. Potter couldn't hear him anyway.

Draco groaned and rubbed his eyes, a headache starting on him. 

~

"How's he?" Ron asked, though he sounded exceedingly angry with himself for still caring enough to ask that.

"Ronald, it's been two nights. Sure, I managed to breach deeper, but I quite literally had to force my way through. He's about as well as you can imagine." Draco shrugged.

"Forcing your way through is the _only_ way to get him to listen to _anything_." Ron shook his ginger head and scowled. Really, Draco was a bad influence on him. "He's a stubborn idiot." 

"Yes, he is. Be that as it were, I can't exactly tell you anything yet. Come back after the treatment is halfway through." Draco informed him, finishing off bandaging up Ron's arm. He could a nasty cut in a recent raid.

"Hermione's going mad. She's angry with herself for granting consent." The ginger informed him, moving his arm and wincing a bit.

"Because it's me? Or because she doesn't want anyone to impede upon Potter's mind?" Draco asked dryly, not the least bit surprised. Ron gave him a guilty look:

"Bit of both I think. She doesn't have anything against you anymore, it's just.." He trailed off, pursing his lips.

"It's just difficult to believe I'd mean him well." Draco finished helpfully, frowning, taking off his gloves. Ron withered at that, and rubbed his neck with his healthy hand:

"Not exactly. She's more worried about what he'll do to you. You're an especially...ah, _sore_ subject for Harry." 

Draco raised an eyebrow at the other man, half turning to face him, waiting for him to elaborate. Ron didn't look like he'd say anything more though, instead he stood up and gave Draco a nod, leaving the infirmary.

_He_ was a _sore_ subject for Potter?

And Draco thought nothing could surprise him anymore.

~

The following day, Draco started sifting through Potter's memories. He found that Potter's magic only pushed back slightly against him, and he was much pleased for it. What he was not pleased about, however, were the memories he had gotten access to. Memories of filthy moans and pleas, naked men writhing on Potter's bed begging to be fucked. It made Draco cringe away, and he made quick work of scanning through, finding no traces of the mass. As soon as he could, he pulled away from them. Then out of Potter's mind altogether. He scowled down at the man, rubbing a hand over his face, wishing the images to go away. 

They wouldn't. They came back with a vengeance, making anger surge through Draco. Why he was so irrationally angry he didn't know, as he'd known Potter had been fucking around like a randy buffalo for years now. Though, he supposed, seeing it and knowing it are two different things. Even still, he couldn't grasp why seeing Potter fucking some guy upset him so much. There was an angry twist to his stomach that wasn't going away, no matter how many deep breaths Draco took. His glare hardened, cutting edge on Potter, who lay all innocent and asleep, as if he hadn't sold himself out like a cheap prostitute. As if he hadn't ruined everything he'd had that was of any worth for a few orgasms. _Slimey git._

"You're the biggest moron I've ever met. Somehow you've gotten dumber instead of smarter with time." The blonde snipped, taking comfort in the fact he could vent his two year long frustrations and Potter wouldn't know a thing. He'd wake up and continue on his fucking rampage without a second thought, and Draco would train himself not to care again. "Gods, I hate you so much Potter." He shook his head, turning to his notes, dutifully trying to ignore the nuisance in the bed. 

The following night, Draco pushed a bit deeper still, encountering memories from their time at Hogwarts, the most _awkward_ kissing he'd _ever_ seen, which lead to the realization that Potter was so very gay, which then lead to some more awkward kissing, only difference being it was a guy instead of a girl. All in all, everything about Potter was very awkward, that much he'd managed to gleam. He'd seen the fun times him, Hermione and Ron had had, and the stupid situations he managed to get himself into. Worst of all, he'd seen that the Potter who became friends with him once upon a time, was the exact same one he was watching through his memories, which meant that Potter had always been genuine. Shameful as it was to admit, Draco had spent a long while doubting Potter's attempts at friendship, almost certain he had an ulterior motive. After a while, the doubts ebbed away, but Draco felt bad for ever having them in the first place now that he'd seen the git had been honest the entire time. Potter always had been so easy to read, so sincere about everything, which is why the day he'd lied to Draco stung all the more. And not only had he lied, he cut Draco out, just like he did with everyone else. It made the blonde bitterly angry, that. Though he didn't have long to be angry, as the memories of Hogwarts transitioned into all of the dangers Potter had faced. The most prominent ones were those of Potter when he was still a kid, facing off Quirrell and Voldemort who was attached to Quirrell. A pale pang of fear struck Draco while he watched Potter face this insanity, at the ripe old age of 11 years old. He had never known, especially while in school, how much danger Potter had always been in. He assumed Potter was just an attention-seeking sod who did nothing but bask in his glory all day long. He'd learned better of it with the years, but again, seeing it and knowing it were completely different phenomenons. 

Next, he watched, still rooted to the spot, Potter face off the Basilisk, and Tom Riddle, eyes wide and hands trembling. He was just a bloody child! Deciding he'd had enough for one day, he checked through the memories quickly and pulled out of the link, slumping back into his chair.

"What the bloody fuck?" He couldn't help but ask, staring at Potter incredulously. "What kind of fucking 12 year old were you? The bloody wonder kid." He rubbed his hands down his face and took a few deep breaths. No wonder Potter never had any sense of self-preservation, being tossed around dangerous situations since his wee ages. _Bloody hell._

~

_The man is afraid. _

_The pond ripples still, though it has calmed, adjusted to him. His magical signature is a comforting linger to hold on to while he burrows deeper._

_His mind is undulating beneath the man's touch, but the man is afraid._

_He hesitates. He does not wish to breach further, yet he must. _

_There's something dark deep, deep down. It grows, feeds, takes from his magic. _

_This blonde man is the only one who can save him._

_~_

Days and nights dwindled away like this, Draco combing through Potter's memories, searching deeper and deeper, trying to locate the danger. He'd seen many things about Potter's life, but what had undoubtedly spun him into a grave fury was seeing Potter's childhood. He couldn't _believe_ anyone would treat a child that way. He felt so _disgusted_, and _angry_, he could have burned the entirety of Privet Drive down. What kind of heartless monster do you have to be to lock a boy in a closet and..and _starve _him?! Draco raged and raged over seeing all of that, and had to take a serious day off just to get himself back in working order. He hadn't even realized how deeply he cared about Potter until he noted how fiercely protective he'd gotten. It wasn't good, not at all. Convincing himself he was indifferent was a blessing, and then Potter had to go get cursed and really, this was all his fault. For being a good guy who forgave everyone everything and became friends with ex-Death Eaters, then for becoming a stupid, mindless, randy bastard who fucked everything that moved, then for cutting everyone out of his life and finally, just for the fact he managed to break the masks and walls Draco had always been impeccable at keeping up with merely _existing_. Honestly. The git always did have a way of getting under Draco's skin like no other. Whether it be by annoying or amusing Draco, he was always _there_. An itch the blonde couldn't scratch away, bugging him all day and night long. Then he just goes and shuts Draco out, and leaves a mess of questions unanswered, only making Draco madder.

Now it's been a full week since Potter had come in, and Draco still hadn't found the stupid black mass feeding on his magic. All he'd done was successfully done was wind himself up tighter looking through Potter's memories. Draco sighed in defeat, preparing to open the link and step in once again, when Hermione came bustling in. He stepped away from Potter's bed, and greeted her. She held a paper bag in her hands, some delicious smell wafting from it.

"Brought you lunch." She chirped and handed Draco the food. He took it and peered inside, stomach growling. A puff pastry stared back at him.

"Alright. What is it you _really_ want?" He asked, biting into it. It really was delicious. She smiled ruefully and glanced at Harry. "Ah." Draco realized at once. "Haven't found it yet. I was just about to go in when you came in." 

"Is everything...alright? Did he..hurt you?" She sounded awfully concerned. Draco tilted his head:

"Everything's fine, Hermione. He's unconscious as you can see, so I don't think he could hurt me even if he wanted to." He hadn't forgotten what Ron had told him yet, this was his chance to pry. Hermione shook her frizzy head:

"No, Draco, you don't understand. His magic can be unstable if he's under stress or if he's emotional. It can hurt people, it's very destructive." 

"Right. Of course it is, this is Potter we're talking about. Everything about him has to be explosive." Draco grumbled. She nodded and lingered, though she said nothing. Draco arched an eyebrow at her, waiting to see what else she wanted. The expression on her face was forlorn, torn, as if there was something she wanted to ask, but didn't quite dare. 

"Come on, spit it out. You won't hurt my feelings." He rolled his eyes, spelling away the crumbs from his fingers and shirt.

"Right, uh, yeah, how much have you--how deep did you--" Hermione bit her lip, rubbing her arm.

Draco rolled his eyes again. He really shouldn't be telling her any of this, it was a breach of etiquette. 

"I've seen quite a bit, Hermione. His childhood and Hogwarts, the war, even watched him shag, much to my chagrin." 

She sucked in a quiet breath:

"Right, alright. When he wakes up, will he know? Be aware you were in his head?" 

Draco shrugged, darting a quick glance at Potter.

"I don't know, it all depends on the person. I'm pretty sure he'll know I was in there, what with how strong his magic is and such. Why?"

"Because I've been thinking, and.." Hermione trailed off, her gaze sweeping between Potter and Draco, her lip sucked between her teeth. "Brace yourself for what you might find." She warned, gaze wavering, before taking her leave.

"That wasn't cryptic and creepy at all.." Draco mumbled to himself, blinking after her. "Brace myself. I don't think any amount of bracing can prepare one for wading through your mind Potter." He shook his head, and sat down, opening the link.

~

"You're being ridiculous honey." Ron chastised his wife, shaking his head. She was spouting nonsense, grasping at straws.

"Am I? Think about it Ron. Do you remember how protective Harry got over Draco? He nearly broke your nose when you talked ill of him." She clipped back, almost completely certain of her theory.

"He was drunk Mione, he didn't know what he was doing." Ron shot back, half-shrugging.

"Don't be difficult. Harry wasn't even buzzed that night and we both know it. _He_ had claimed he was drunk the next day when he came to apologize, but he'd hardly had a pint." Hermione was tempted to stomp her foot, though restrained herself from doing so.

"Are you saying helied to cover up something?" Ron asked, indulging her.

"_Yes_, that's exactly what I'm saying. He had to justify it somehow, didn't he? Who nearly breaks their best friend's nose over someone he'd recently become friends with? Doesn't make sense does it? Unless..." She let the end of the sentence hang unsaid, letting him piece it together.

Ron paled, his freckles standing out starkly against his skin. Much as he loathed to admit it, listening to her explain it wasn't as baloney as he'd first thought.

"And, what's more, do you remember how much he talked about Draco all of the time? Always good things too. How Draco made him laugh, how he changed, how he was a great guy now, all that sweet talk convinced us to give him a chance too in the end. Don't you see Ron? It makes perfect sense." Hermione kept at it. The longer she thought about it, the more sense it made to her. She had started back two years, replaying the events, trying to pinpoint a reason Harry had changed so drastically, when everything he'd said and done hit her like a Bludger, and a sudden realization clicked.

"But that's such a big thing, Mione. Surely Harry would have told us he was _in love_ with Draco." Ron shook his head, squirming, not fond of this theory at all.

"I don't think he knew himself Ron. Not until that morning, when he'd come in looking somber. He'd told everyone everything was fine, and then took a random guy for a roll in the hay. That's when it started, isn't it? The day he started to change." Hermione sighed, shoulders slumping.

"Right, okay, let's pretend for a moment you're right. Why would Harry go on a mad shagging spree after he realized he fell in love with Draco?" Ron humored her, sitting down next to her on the couch, unsettled. She sighed, pressing her lips in a thin line.

"Because it scared him. His feelings, that is, so he attempted to drown them out with distractions. And kept doing it, running away from it." 

Ron leaned back against the couch, cradling his head. She continued after a moment:

"Draco is the only guy he's never hit on. Always been polite and respectful with him. All small smiles too, I'm sure you've noticed." 

"I did, yeah, but I don't know, I never thought about it like that." Ron thought back on everything, mulling it over.

"Of course not. No one did. Not even Harry himself I suppose, until he'd realized it. I think he thought Draco would never feel the same, so he instead settled for what he could get from others." Hermione buried her hands in her hair, voice dropping to a whisper.

"That's so..sad.." Ron mumbled weakly, unsure how else to categorize it.

"Yeah. Right. I'll go bring Draco lunch, talk to him." She was just about to stand up, when Ron grabbed her arm.

"Mione no, you can't tell Draco, it's not your place--"

"Don't worry Ron, I won't tell him anything too much. Just to..brace himself I suppose." She assured with a soft smile.

~

_Deeper, he goes deeper still. He's searching._

_The pond is calm now, undisturbed by his presence._

_He has easier access. Good, that's good._

_Soon, he's close._

_~_

Draco pulled out of Potter's mind, after a rather intriguing memory. It was back when they'd first become friends, before Ron and Hermione warmed up to him. Ron was jabbering on and on and Potter had gotten steadily angrier, until Ron had pushed him to the point of Potter almost clocking him in the face. Hermione stopped him. Funny thing was, it was all over Draco. Potter stuck up for him, and to say he was surprised would be an understatement. It just served as proof that Potter was a stupid, selfless bastard which just made his change all the more unnerving and confusing. He obviously cared enough to defy his best mate but not enough to provide proper answers and not fucking shut Draco out. 

"Why the fuck did you do that?" Draco growled at the unconscious man. "Why would just...shut me out like that? We were friends, weren't we?" He shook his head at himself, running a hand through his hair. It wasn't fair, being treated like that.

_Friends_. They were friends. After years of pointless hostility, they were friends, and yet. And yet. Draco sighed through his nose, eyes flickering. Potter made him so confused at the best of times. One second, they're friends and everything's fine, then the next Potter turns his back on everyone. And now Draco had witnessed most of his life, seen what it was that made Potter tick, and he was only even more confused. He didn't even know what it was he wanted with Potter anymore. At first, it was friendship, and that was fine, he'd gotten that. Then he figured he wanted nothing at all after Potter ditched him, and he'd gotten that too. And _now_, he didn't know anymore. 

~

Only six days left. That's how long Draco had to find the cancerous mass, or Potter would be lost. As the days dwindled away, Draco grew more and more restless, panicked. He couldn't let it happen to Potter. Couldn't let Potter turn into a Squib. And he couldn't even explain to himself why he cared _so bloody much_, but it was obvious enough that he did, and that time was running out. He'd been spending more and more time searching Potter's mind, frantically even, rushing through memories as soon as he made sure there was nothing stuck to them. He'd stepped deeper and deeper and still, found nothing. 

He opened the link again.

~

_He feels it. His magic core feels its reckoning. The darkness is eating too quickly, too much._

_Where is the blonde man? _

_The pond is spiraling away, draining. _

_Soon it will be **empty**._

_~_

The moment Draco stepped in, he felt the change. The deplete of Potter's magic. A flutter of panic twisted his gut. He took quick, shaky steps deeper, finding the point he'd last marked. The pulse of magic was a bit stronger here, around the memories dancing around this corner of his mind. 

He felt the current's of Potter's mind undulating around him, sweeping past his skin, ruffling through his hair, egging him forwards. _Welcoming_ him. A small smile tugged at his lips. Potter was letting him in. He wore the bastard down, finally. There was more though. Draco realized that while he stood, sparks and wind coiled around his feet, tugging. He followed the tug, the pull, allowing Potter to lead him to where he needed to be. He let himself trail along, letting memories fleet past him, pictures of Potter smiling at something Draco had said, the memory of Potter explaining to Ron and Hermione how much of an amazing guy Draco was, the memory of the two deciding to give Draco a chance, Potter's happiness. He let it all fleet past him, warming his skin as it did so, while Potter willingly showed him the way. He watched his mind open up before him, unraveling, and felt so incredibly _humbled_. 

He was led deeper still, into the main ring of magic, the main pulse. Only the darkest, most powerful memories were stoved away there, and Potter had let him in. Allowed him to enter, to see, to search. Draco's smile widened, soft around the edges, melting away his apprehension.

"Thank you.." He mumbled, feeling the magic mould around him, not trying to push him out anymore.

And then, there it was. 

An ugly, twisted black mass, rooted outwards, buried deep into the memory it chose as a feeding source. It sucked and slowly expanded as it fed, writhing and rippling. Draco frowned and walked closer to it, disgust twisting his features with every step forward. It covered the entirety of the memory, latched onto it, absorbing all of the magic from it, sucking it out not unlike Dementors did joy. It did not react to Draco's proximity. He pulled out his wand, cringing as a ripple went through it while it suckled out everything it could take. 

It knew he was there. 

It didn't perceive him as a threat.

And that, was its worst mistake.

"Incendio." Draco growled darkly, shoving his wand as deep into it as he could, holding tightly when it attempted to wrench it out of his grip. A spark, then the entire thing caught fire. A shrieking filled the space around him, but Draco did not relent. It twitched and tore, the flames pulling it apart, eating through the congealed tangle, releasing all of the magic it dared take. Writhing and thrashing, it merely fell off of the memory, crawling around pathetically. Draco glared at it, cold gray eyes sharp as ever, and waited until it stopped moving to release the fire. He watched the wave of magic sink back into the memory it was taken from, and he looked at it, hesitating entering it for a moment. He needed to check it for damages, however, and with a deep breath, he stepped forward, letting it envelop him.

_"Shit." Harry cursed, pacing around his flat. "Oh fuck me, why?" He moaned, tugging on his wild hair. "Why him?" He kept murmuring out, sounding as if he was in pain. _

** _I am in love with Draco Malfoy._ **

_Harry's thoughts spun around wildly, his stomach sick with a cold buck of emotions. How the fuck did he let this happen to him? _

_"The one man I can't have, of course I picked him." He whined into a glass of scotch. "He wouldn't ever love me." He threw the drink back, wincing at the burn, scowling. "What the bloody hell have I roped myself into?" He kept muttering, shoulders starting to tremble. A sense of great panic whorled through the misty haze of his head. _

** _I can't have him._ **

_Of course not, Harry you idiot. Why the hell would he ever feel the same? "Bloody hell, why couldn't it have been anyone else?" He threw back another pint, still scowling at the taste. "No, no this isn't right." He muttered, shaking his head, choked by desperation. "I need..I need something else..no.." He wasn't finishing his sentences, scared, so scared. "A distraction..something to.." _

_His mumbles grew incoherent. _

Draco saw it. Saw the moment his face changed. Saw the moment something snapped. Saw the moment it closed, his eyes clouded over, and he felt the bitter acceptance. Defeat. He saw the moment memory-Harry accepted defeat, defeat over himself and others, draw away from those he loved, try to _run_. 

A tear slid down Draco's cheek.

~

Draco pulled out of the memory, his breaths coming in short, wheezing gasps.

His eyes were painfully wide and alert, as he drew away, sinking into the chair bonelessly. 

For a few long minutes, he simply sat, breathing heavily, not daring to think. 

_Brace yourself for what you might find._

Nothing could have prepared him for what he'd seen. _Nothing_.

~

_A surge swept over his mind as the pond gushed with magic again._

_The darkness was gone, burned away. _

_The blonde man had saved him._

_A pleasant breeze wafted through his core._

_Soon it would be time to wake._

_~_

Draco realized with a start that he was shaking. He'd been sitting in silence for so long he'd managed to drown out all noise. He blinked dumbly at Potter. 

He didn't know what to think, what to do. He didn't know how to feel. 

_I am in love with Draco Malfoy._

What the bloody hell? 

Potter couldn't be, surely _not_. Yet there it was, crystal clear. His deepest memory, buried farther down than anything else, powerful enough to become a feeding source for curses, was a moment of clarity. A moment of realization.

_I can't have him._

That was the reason..that was the reason he drew away, shut everyone out. That was the answer to all of Draco's questions. The answer to _why_, and it felt just as terrible as not knowing did. Worse even. His chest felt too small, compressed too tightly, no air reaching his lungs. Draco stared and stared at Potter, as if waiting to be told it had all been a cruel joke. 

The blonde winced. His head dropped back over the edge of the chair, staring up at the ceiling. He knew everything he wanted to know now, it all fit. The one thing he still didn't know was what about Potter made him so wound up. That was the only piece missing. He'd thought about it over the past month of treating Potter, yet always came up empty. He'd watched Potter grow and laugh and smile and cry, he'd seen Potter _die_ and come back, he'd heard every hushed plan and conversation, he'd felt it all as personally as anything, and he thought about the five years they'd spent growing a friendship, starting off on rocky ground, fights and jabs left and right, then Potter's shift into wanting something more than that, something better. How happy Potter seemed to be proven wrong about everything he ever thought he knew about Draco. How he always made sure the mood was bright, no matter what it was they were doing or talking about. How he actually listened to the fussy rants Draco would go on while bandaging him up, and how he'd heed his advice. How happy it made Draco that Potter listened and obeyed it. It was easy to forget, to not think about it, to take it for granted, how Potter put Draco at ease with his smiles and words. Easy to not ever consider what was growing, until Draco had lost it. And he didn't know why. He didn't know what it meant to him until Potter grew cold. That's how it usually worked anyways, wasn't it? He was hurt, and angry at Potter, at _Harry_, that he'd just up and left as if it was all meaningless, and _now_ Draco knew it wasn't, now he'd seen it meant more to Harry than he'd ever shown, that walking away hurt him more than anyone could suspect. He did it out of fear, out of panic, insecurity, and didn't know how to go back from it. Because how do you fix that? 

Worse yet, he realized that no one had gone after him. Draco was the first to give up, to give in. At the first signs of trouble, Draco drew away and watched Potter slip away on the sidelines. Even Ron and Hermione threw in the towel much too soon. No one was left to tell him this was a bad idea, to chastise him for being a bloody idiot, and he let himself go. He'd lost them all just as much as they lost him. 

Draco lifted his head and stared at Potter again. It was so easy to breathe then, to see everything clearly. 

"You made me happy and then you just suddenly turned around and left it all behind." Draco murmured, speaking his thoughts into existence. "And I let you do it. We all did. I'm sorry for that." Slowly, Draco exhaled, feeling at ease once again, perhaps for the first time in two cold years.

"Then you show me the truth like this..and now I can't even be mad at you anymore. Instead, I have to feel something else. How you've always managed to rile me up without even trying is honestly beyond me." He kept talking. Couldn't stop. Needed to keep going.

"You're insufferable. So annoying, and yet..." He trailed off, voice quiet: "Yet you got me somehow. Got me so damn good." 

~

It was a day later that Harry woke up. Draco had been making his rounds, stealing tired glances at him whenever he could. Surprisingly enough, the world didn't end or crack in two like Draco had expected it to after his own little enlightening. Everything just felt different somehow. As if something in him had snapped too, and he was seeing reality through different eyes. He walked into Harry's room to check his vitals, when a groan snapped him to attention.

His eyes froze over Harry's face. He was blinking slowly, green eyes hazy from sleep. His lips parted, but no sound came out, and he seemed to strain with the effort of speaking.

"Hi." He blinked again, finally fully opening his eyes, boring up into Draco's. 

"Er, uh, hi.." Draco stammered, rooted to the spot. Snapping himself out of it forcefully, he looked away and checked his monitoring charms, everything coming back alright. No damage to his magic, mind or body. Right, that was all good. He'd done a good job then. Harry sat up with in bed, his strength returning to him after a bit of recovery. He rubbed his eyes:

"My glasses?" He asked and Draco stopped for a moment. For some odd reason he couldn't fathom even then, Draco had kept Harry's glasses with him at all times after Harry had fainted. He just felt better knowing they wouldn't get lost in the ruckus. The blonde slipped them out of his breast pocket and handed them to Harry, who popped them on, a small tic of relief flooding his face now that he could see properly again.

"How are you feeling?" Draco found his scratchy voice, and held fast to his clipboard and quill, not looking up.

"I feel like someone had been roving around my head for a long time. Everything feels a bit disjointed. Then again, that _is_ exactly what happened isn't it?" His tone was rich like honey, but not accusatory in any way. Draco glanced up and hummed his assent, not trusting his speech.

Silence descended upon them while Draco went through the motions of the paperwork and such. After a bit, Harry deemed it suitable to break it:

"You saw." It was a statement, not a question. He sounded so solemn. 

"I did." Draco replied, pressing his lips into a thin line. He didn't know how to talk to Harry again, especially about this. Harry nodded and looked off, not saying another word. He didn't look bothered, or upset, just tired all of a sudden. Someone who had slept nearly a full month away should not look tired by any account. Then again, there was more than one way to be tired.

~

"You left work early. The hell happened?" Ron sat down next to Draco at the Leaky Cauldron, utterly shocked to find him there at all. Draco _never _left work early. He was almost as strict about the rules as Hermione.

"He woke up." Draco shrugged, drinking his gin. Ron nodded:

"I know, I went to visit him. I looked for you after I talked to him, but they told me you left early. Which is something you never do." 

Draco shrugged again:

"What did he say?" 

Ron ordered beer and sighed:

"He said you saw. He said he was sorry he put so much distance between us all. He said he did it out of fear. You know all of this though." 

"I do." He replied somberly, nursing his drink.

"You still haven't answered my question. What happened?" Ron insisted.

"Nothing happened. I saw what I saw, did what I had to do and...that's _it_." Draco shook his head, tucking his chin down into his chest.

"Did you want something to happen?" Ron patted his shoulder, as considerate as ever. Sometimes Draco hated that he had his moments of incredibly spot-on intuition.

"Yes." He answered honestly, mumbling into his glass, seeing no point in lying to himself or others anymore. He hated lies most of all. How ironical it would be that he'd spent years lying to himself?

"Then make it happen." Ron drank his beer, shrugging. He made it sound so simple. And perhaps it was. Perhaps Draco was just overcomplicating it.

"You make it sound so simple." He wrapped his pallid smile around the glass, finishing off his gin.

"It _is_ simple Draco. You want him, you go get him." Ron's eyes twinkled with mirth and Draco rolled his own. 

How stupid that Weasley had to knock some sense into him.

~

It took one day for Draco to gather his wits about him. He found himself in a distasteful club this night, looking for one green eyed prick. He knew Harry would be here, because Ron had not so subtly dropped hints the entirety of yesterday until Draco had snapped and assured him he'd go. Right back to his playboy ways, Draco was disappointed to note. Though, he'd be tempted to go out for a quick shag too if someone had roped through his deepest memories. It wasn't hard to spot him, even in the sea of people. It was never hard for Draco to pick out Harry in a crowd. What a fool he'd been all this time.

He was dancing with some random bloke when Draco pushed through the mass of bodies to get to them. He tapped the bloke on the shoulder and gave him a dirty glare.

"Walk." He hissed, loud enough to be heard. Harry looked shocked to find him there. Draco shoved at the guy's shoulder to encourage him and he glared right back, huffing and storming away. Then, Draco turned to face Harry. 

First things first.

He slapped him. 

"That's for being a stupid piece of shit." Draco informed him over the din of the club. Harry rubbed his cheek spluttering. Draco didn't give him time to recover. He grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him in, crashing their lips together. If possible, Harry went stiller than death, before Draco pulled away.

"That's for making me lose my bloody mind." He informed him again, staring him down. In the low light of the club, he could just about make out a faint flush over Harry, who remained so very still. 

Then he smiled.

"Only you." He shook his head at himself, and Draco didn't catch the rest of the incoherent mumble, before Harry gripped his hips and pulled him in for a kiss again, being so beautifully responsive, unlike the first time. Draco didn't disappoint either, slotting their mouths better together, his hands on Harry's shoulders. 

After a moment they pulled away, still entangled, and waited, studying each other's faces. Then, another wide grin broke Harry's face:

"I could hear everything you were saying, did you know? I'm assuming not, because you wouldn't have said anything if you had known." 

Draco stilled, scowled, then flushed, hid his face behind his fringe.

"I don't believe you." He countered, pouting. Harry laughed, properly laughed, the sound vibrating through Draco as well from their proximity.

"I'm insufferable, and so annoying, _but_ I got you damn good." He muttered into Draco's ear, a wicked grin on his lips. 

"Git." Draco huffed, shivering when Harry started to trail soft kisses down from his ear over his neck. Harry chuckled against his skin and pulled back, dark eyebrow arched:

"How'd you know I was here?" There was a curious lilt to his voice.

"Ron informed me over a dozen times yesterday. Merlin knows why." Draco rolled his eyes, a smile tugging on his lips all the same.

"It's scary isn't it? That Ron's actually smart now." The raven looked thoughtful, lasting all of a few seconds before giggling.

"Terrifying." Draco agreed. 

"So, what now?" Harry asked, arms tightening around Draco imperceptibly. Draco's face fell serious:

"Now, Potter, you stop the endless parade of men through your bed." 

Harry frowned for a moment, a guilty look flashing across his eyes.

"And take me instead." Draco finished, placing an arrogant grin on his face, though his insides felt like jelly.

He felt a shiver pass through Harry.

"Ah, _that's_ something I'll _gladly_ do."

~

_Fin._

**Author's Note:**

> Find more on my [Tumblr](https://missdrarrydawn.tumblr.com/)


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